


What Are Friends For?

by Saone



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BAMF Phil Coulson, M/M, Marcus and Cheese are bffs, Pre-Movie, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saone/pseuds/Saone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Fury have a history, and Phil is definitely not above using said history to get what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are Friends For?

**Author's Note:**

> Not betad, grammarians beware. Contains lots of salty language, mentions of nefarious deeds, and a tiny bit of Hawkeye-related objectification.

Phil is a man on a mission. 

Phil is usually a man on a mission, though, so no one really blinks or looks twice at the sight of him striding purposefully through headquarters. Everyone just does their best to get out of his way and avoid eye contact. 

Sometimes being Phil Coulson has its perks.

One such perk, much to the consternation of Fury's two assistants, is being able to enter the Director's office without a prior appointment and living to tell the tale. Phil knows that his legend grows a bit more after every time he barges in and leaves Fury's company with all his limbs attached. 

Phil doesn't think of himself as a narcissist, but he does love the tales of his badassry that get passed along amongst the Junior agents. He'll have to get Sitwell to bring him coffee and the latest scuttlebutt later.

Now, though, he needs to ask a favor.

Fury's sitting at his desk making an unimpressed face at a tablet when Phil enters his office. 

"Agent Coulson," Fury says, the corners of his mouth drop down into a deep scowl. "I don't recall you being on my calendar. Is there a particular reason I shouldn't have Security escort you to the-"

"Marcus," Phil says, taking a seat in one of the chairs across from Fury's desk, "I appreciate a good bluster from you as much as the next person, but could you cut it short today? I'm on kind of a schedule."

"Oh, you're on a schedule, are you? Fuck you, Cheese." Fury huffs as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "And fuck your _schedule_. I'm trying to run a super secret spy organization here! I can't have just anybody barging in, willy nilly, without-"

"I'm sorry, did I just hear you use the phrase 'willy nilly'?" Phil asks.

"Shut up."

"And I'm not _just anybody_ now, am I?"

Fury closes his eye and puts a hand up to his forehead. "Goddammit, Phil, if you're doing this to _enhance your mystique_ , or whatever, I will personally-"

"March 15, 1996." Phil watches Fury's face as the date sinks in. Then it's his turn to scowl as Fury barks out a loud laugh.

"Ha! No, no, no. I am sorry, my friend, but you have already cashed in March 15, 1996."

"What?" Phil says. "No, I haven't."

"Have too."

"Have not."

"Have too, dammit!" Nick says. "Or did I just imagine having to spend the weekend of Penny's wedding regaling the rest of your family with tales of Dave, your imaginary boyfriend?"

"Huh," Phil says. "I can't believe I forgot about that." He sighs. "Mom still asks about him."

"I know," Nick says, adding his own sigh. "Anyway, March 15, 1996 has already been used. Tough shit. Get out."

Phil narrows his eyes and keeps himself planted right where he is. "March 16, 1996."

"Oh hell no!" Fury says. "You can't call in two favors for one mission!"

"This isn't about missions, Marcus," Phil says, "this is about you doing something idiotic and me having to save your sorry ass. Now, that usually only happened once per assignment. Thankfully. However, if you recall, during _that_ particular-"

"I remember what happened," Fury snaps. "Dammit." He stews for a minute or so. "If I don't agree, you're gonna be an ass about things, aren't you?"

Phil's left eyebrow raises just a tic. "What do you think?"

Fury glares at him. "Fine. Just... _Fine_. March 16, 1996. What do you want? And, I'll tell you right now, if it's to help you hide a body, my back's been a little tetchy lately, so..."

"Clint Barton," Phil says.

Fury blinks, obviously startled by the name. "What about him?"

"That's what I want," Phil says. "Or, rather, who I want."

"What the hell do you want him for?" Fury asks.

Phil grins and closes his left eye in a wink.

"What the hell? What's that supposed to..." Fury's jaw drops as a look of horror sweeps over his face. "Oh, for the love of... No," Fury says. "I don't care what kind of leverage you have, I am not going to... to... pimp out my newest sniper."

Phil rolls his eyes. "I'm not asking you to - Christ - _pimp him out_." Phil grimaces. "And, for the record, we are both far too old to use that phrase."

"Speak for yourself," Fury says with a sniff. "Then what exactly are you asking? And, before you answer, let's not forget the little fact that this _favor_ you want isn't exactly known for his sparkling personality. Do I really have to remind you that the only reason he's here is because his only other choices were either a long future spent in a windowless cell or a short future spent on death row?"

"No, thank you," Phil says. "Do I really have to remind you that I'm the one who brought him in, and I'm well aware of what he's capable of?" 

"Then why on Earth..." Fury makes a face and shifts a bit in his chair. "All right, I will admit that even I have found myself looking at his ass a few times."

Phil feels his brow furrow. "How many times?"

"None of your damn business," Fury says. "But looking is one thing. What's probably going through your nasty mind is something else entirely." Fury throws up his hands. "Come on, man, there's not exactly a shortage of hot, athletic-types in form-fitting body suits around here. Can't you find somebody non-psychotic to perv on?"

"He's not psychotic," Phil says a bit testily. "He has issues."

"I'm sorry," Fury says, " _issues_?! Is he an assassin or a periodical?"

"Also," Phil continues, "I'm not just perving on him. I-"

"Don't say it," Fury says, sitting up straight in his chair.

"I think I-"

"Do Not Say It."

"I think I might-"

"Phillip J. Coulson, for the love of my sanity, do not-"

"I think I might have developed feelings for him," Phil says in a rush.

Fury stares at him for a long moment. "Goddammit," he finally says. "How the hell did that happen?"

Phil lifts one shoulder up in a shrug. "He can be really sweet, at times."

Fury's eye widens. "Sweet?! I'm pretty sure Mr. Sweet has a higher kill rate than the two of us combined."

"I said, at times," Phil says.

Fury puts a hand up to his face and rubs at the bridge of his nose. "I am not hearing this. This is not being heard."

"Your concern is noted and touching, Marc," Phil says, "but I'm a big boy. I know what I'm going to be getting into." Phil tilts his head to one side. "Do you really think I can't handle him?"

"I don't want to think about you _handling_ him," Fury says with a grimace. "But one thing I do think is that Barton's not the type to file a sexual harassment complaint, and I'd rather not have your ass, or other parts of you, get skewered just because you decided to make a damn fool of yourself."

"Your trust in my abilities is overwhelming," Phil says.

"I'm just keeping it real."

"Yeah, you're too old to get away with saying that too." Phil says. "Look, all I'm asking is for you to... be accepting," 

"Accepting?"

"Accommodating."

"Accommodating?"

Phil feels the muscles around his eyes tighten. "I'm asking you to not be a hardass and have a snit fit if Barton is amiable to my advances and we decide to start something."

Fury raises his eyebrow. "Excuse me? _Snit fit_?! When the hell have I ever had a _snit fit_?!"

"Well, you're getting pretty damn close to one now," Phil says. He watches as Fury's jaw clenches, and he can almost imagine the sound of molars grinding together.

"Fine," Fury bites out. "March 16, 1996. You win. Pursue Barton all you want. But I don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to see it, and if he decides to use you as a pin cushion I reserve the right to say I told you so."

"Deal." Phil smiles and stands up. "Thanks, Marcus."

"Shut the hell up, and get out of my office."

"Of course, sir. Anything you say."

___________

end


End file.
